As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, Kael's silhouette stood still by the window. The golden glow lit half his face, leaving the other half swallowed by shadows that stretched like claws across the wooden floor.
He didn't blink. Didn't breathe deeply. Just stared.
Something was moving—just out of reach. He could feel it, like an itch beneath his skin or a whisper too faint to catch.
"Dramatic much?" the soul imprint muttered inside his head, tone sharp but amused. "You're acting like the sun rising is a plot twist."
Kael exhaled a quiet chuckle. "I don't recall inviting commentary from the peanut gallery this early."
"You didn't. That's why it's fun."
He turned slightly, glancing at Saria who now sat beside the low table, pouring tea with the kind of grace that made Kael feel like a barely civilized forest goblin in comparison. Her eyes, though tired, met his with a quiet resilience.
"Tell me again why I'm not running off into the mountains to become a hermit," Kael asked, dragging his feet back toward the bed and flopping onto it with theatrical exhaustion.
"Because you hate silence," she replied dryly, handing him a cup of tea. "And because you're not alone in this. No matter how hard you try to act like you are."
He stared at the cup like it might bite him. "Right. Friendship. Teamwork. Camaraderie. The real horror story."
She snorted. "Drink the tea, Kael."
As the warmth seeped through his fingers, the tension that had coiled around his chest began to ease. Briefly.
The soul imprint, always lurking in the back of his consciousness like an uninvited roommate, chimed in again. "Your energy pathways are still damaged. They're healing, but slowly. You pushed too hard."
Kael rolled his eyes. "What, no gold star for effort?"
"This isn't effort. It's idiocy with flair."
"Okay, rude," Kael muttered aloud, earning a confused glance from Saria.
She didn't press. She was used to Kael's random outbursts by now, even if she didn't always know he was arguing with a centuries-old remnant lodged in his soul like a glittery parasite with opinions.
A gentle knock came at the door.
Before Kael could groan his refusal, the door slid open and an unfamiliar young disciple stepped in. He couldn't have been more than seventeen, dressed in crisp sect robes, posture stiff with rehearsed discipline. A scroll was tucked under his arm.
"Senior Kael," the boy said, bowing slightly, though his eyes darted curiously to the side. "You are summoned by Elder Hoshin. He requests your presence at the outer ring's evaluation grounds by midday."
"Evaluation?" Kael raised a brow. "Didn't I just wake up from fighting death?"
The boy blinked. "Yes, Senior. That's likely why he wants to test your state. There are rumors that—uh—that your display during the last trial was… unique."
Saria's expression darkened slightly. "Is this really necessary now? He hasn't even recovered fully."
The boy fidgeted. "I-I'm just the messenger."
Kael waved him off with a lazy hand. "It's fine. Go on, disciple. I'll be there. Eventually."
The boy bolted out as though escaping a lion's den.
Kael let the silence settle before sighing. "Well. Looks like nap time is officially over."
Saria shook her head. "This isn't right. They should let you rest."
He smirked. "Rest is for the weak. Or the smart. Sadly, I'm neither."
The soul imprint murmured low in his mind. "Be careful. This evaluation isn't a mere formality. They want to see if you're a threat—or a pawn."
Kael's expression sobered. "They're testing me."
"Exactly."
Later, as Kael and Saria made their way toward the outer ring, he couldn't shake the feeling that eyes were on him. Whispers trailed in their wake. Some disciples nodded respectfully. Others sneered, their stares lingering with poorly hidden disdain.
"That's him. The one who collapsed the formation."
"Didn't he cheat somehow? No one goes from mid-tier to... whatever that was."
"He's just a fluke. Watch, he'll burn out like the others."
Kael offered them his brightest smile and whispered loud enough for them to hear, "I'm flattered, really. But you'll need to form a proper fan club if you want autographs."
Saria nudged him. "Kael."
"What?" he said innocently. "They started it."
The outer evaluation grounds were wide, encircled by stone pillars etched with sigils. Elder Hoshin stood in the center, hands clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable. Around him were several senior disciples, each powerful, each radiating pride like perfume.
Among them, a tall disciple stepped forward—broad-shouldered, robes immaculate, aura tightly coiled like a snake about to strike. His name, Kael remembered, was Ren Korrin. Known for being top-tier in the sect's inner rankings.
"Ah, the miracle boy arrives," Ren drawled, looking Kael up and down with an arched brow. "I was expecting someone taller."
Kael smirked. "And I was expecting someone original."
The crowd snickered.
Elder Hoshin raised a hand. "This isn't a duel of wits. Kael, Ren—you'll engage in a formal demonstration. No fatal techniques."
Kael exhaled. "You know I just woke up, right?"
"You accepted the summons," Hoshin replied simply.
Saria leaned close to Kael and whispered, "Are you sure about this?"
"Absolutely not," he whispered back. "Which means I probably should do it."
As Kael stepped into the arena, the soul imprint spoke again. "You can't overpower him yet. Focus on technique. Disrupt his rhythm."
Kael's stance shifted. Energy flared faintly around him, but it was erratic—like lightning trying to dance in a broken lantern.
Ren noticed. He sneered. "Already shaking? Don't worry. I'll make it quick."
As the signal rang out, Ren launched forward with frightening speed, his palm crackling with condensed spiritual force. Kael twisted sideways, barely dodging, and retaliated with a spiraling burst of energy from his palm—not strong, but disorienting.
It worked. Ren flinched, momentum breaking.
Kael followed with a low sweep, then rolled backward to avoid a retaliating strike. His breath came quicker. His body still hadn't fully recovered.
"You're fast," Ren admitted. "But you're still weak."
Kael grinned. "And yet you haven't hit me. Embarrassing, really."
Ren's eyes narrowed.
Kael began shifting tactics, using quick bursts of movement, dodging and baiting, all while subtly observing the energy flow within the arena. The ranking system, he realized, wasn't just about raw power. It was about refinement, control, balance.
"This is a test," the soul imprint whispered. "Show them you can adapt. Not just fight."
He didn't win the duel. He didn't have to.
After several exchanges, Kael paused, breathing hard but upright. Ren stood as well, annoyed but not victorious.
Elder Hoshin raised a hand. "Enough."
Silence fell.
Kael bowed—barely. "Thanks for the warm-up."
Some disciples chuckled. Others glared.
Later, as Kael and Saria walked away from the grounds, she glanced sideways. "You held your own."
"I'd say I half-held someone else's."
"You showed them you weren't to be underestimated."
Kael's tone softened, sarcasm fading. "Yeah. But now they're watching. All of them."
The soul imprint added, "And some of them want you gone."
Kael didn't respond. He didn't need to.
He simply looked ahead, eyes narrowing as the wind carried the distant sound of metal clashing and murmurs from unseen halls.
The sect was shifting.
And Kael was now part of the storm.